


We'll Take the Trail Marked on Your Father's Map

by AngelQueen



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Fluff, Genderbending, Het, Romance, girl!Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Jenna Kirk didn't kiss Christopher Pike, and one time she did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Take the Trail Marked on Your Father's Map

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Sixpence None the Richer's _Kiss Me_ , lyrics found [here](http://www.lyrics007.com/Sixpence%20None%20The%20Richer%20Lyrics/Kiss%20Me%20Lyrics.html).
> 
> Yeah, this is fluff. Fluff with no redeeming features. I blame my unrelenting crush on Christopher Pike.

**_i. In a bar_ **

Jen prods at the cut on her lip absently, only listening to the older man seated across from her with one ear. Stupid, she curses herself. Tommy Hodges actually got a lucky punch in, the son of a bitch. She’ll have to make sure his old man hears about it. John Hodges is probably the most old-fashioned fucker in Riverside, and has some very ingrained ideas stuck in his head, one of those being that men should always be ‘gentlemanly’ to women. When he finds out his youngest boy and his buddies actually went and raised their fists against a woman, he’ll blow a damn gasket. Tommy and the others will be in for more hell than the law could ever _dream_ of bringing down on them. It should be fucking hilarious, and Jen intends to enjoy every second of it.

But she supposes she should actually listen to the stuffed shirt who came in and broke up the fight. Captain Christopher Pike, that is. Jen knows very well who he is. She knows she isn’t supposed to know about the interview he’d had with her mother for his dissertation, but she had been twelve at the time and well on her way to knowing lots of things she shouldn’t. 

“… didn’t believe in no-win scenarios.”

Ah, right. Talking about Dad and his oh-so-noble sacrifice. Jen snorts. It’s hard to think of it like that when her childhood memories are chock full of Sammy’s pain-filled eyes and the bruises on her face and arms. Fucking Frank. “Learned his lesson,” she mutters derisively. 

Pike doesn’t agree with her, though. He goes on and on and she’d laugh if it wouldn’t re-split her lip. He’s fucking trying to _recruit_ her! Didn’t the Starfleet recruitment office flag her under the ‘FUCK NO’ category in their database when they came calling after she’d hit eighteen (and at least they had the good sense to wait until the day _after_ her eighteenth birthday)?

“Do you enjoy being the only genius level farm mechanic in the Midwest?” Pike asks, and she can hear the derision in his tone.

She narrows her eyes. “Maybe I love it,” she snaps back. Okay, so truthfully she’s flat out dying of boredom, but fuck if she’ll admit it to this guy. Not when he’s got the judgment attitude going on.

He keeps talking (damn but did anyone ever teach him how to shut up?), saying how she could be an _officer_ , have her own _ship_ , and a cynical voice in Jen’s head wonders if she could be that if she sucks him off or something. God knows she’s gotten plenty of offers like that before, the whole ‘you scratch my itch, I scratch yours’ routine. Nonetheless, Pike actually _doesn’t_ proposition her, but continues running his mouth.

Still another part of her wonders if she could shut him up if she stands up, leans across the table, and kisses him. That usually works with the cute ones who are a bit nervous and start jabbering almost incoherently. 

Jen shrugs inwardly. It doesn’t matter. “We done?” she demands, cutting off his attempt to define the Federation as a ‘peace-keeping and humanitarian armada’. Like she gives a fuck. The Federation got her father killed. The Federation didn’t do shit to help her and Sammy get away from Frank. The Federation dicked around and gave Kodos the power to fucking _exterminate_ four thousand people. 

The Federation can go to hell for all Jen cares.

He pauses a moment, staring at her in silence, and then finally nods. “I’m done,” he replies, his tone going quiet. He gets to his feet, and then peers down at her. “Riverside Shipyard. Shuttle for new recruits leaves at oh-eight-hundred.”

Jen raises an eyebrow. Pike’s persistent, she’ll give him that. The last recruiters had all but bolted after just a few sharp words. Babies. 

“You know,” he adds, “your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother’s. And yours.” He leans down, his steely eyes intense. “I dare _you_ to do better.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to come back with some pithy comment, and indeed, Jen doesn’t have one for that. Pike turns on his heel and starts toward the door. Jen toys absently with the starship salt-shaker, watching him go. She’s faintly surprised when he stops and looks back at her. 

“By the way, Jenna,” he says, “what was fight about?”

That at least, she has something to say about. She smirks. “Tommy Hedges and his pals wanted me to sing. I told him to get lost, and he refused. Your cadets decided to be heroes and stepped in.” The one she’d mentally dubbed Cupcake actually did pretty good – he probably cost Tommy a few teeth. 

Pike raises an eyebrow, looking skeptical. 

“Oh, it’s true,” she assures him, giving him her wickedest, naughtiest smile. “I don’t sing for just anyone, Captain.”

He doesn’t blush like so many other men have, just rolls his eyes and takes his leave.

* * *

**_ii. On a ship_ **

God, but Nero’s ship is fucking _insane_. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, Jen admits to herself, considering its captain and crew are completely _ape_. Still, she manages to navigate the ship following the directions Spock had given her, darting here and there, shooting anyone who gets in her sights. She’s in no mood to play nice with these genocidal fuckers.

Most of the crew is manning their stations, so she’s lucky there’s only one guard where they’re keeping Pike. He doesn’t even get a chance to draw his weapon before she takes him down.

The room is _wet_ , is her first impression. Water sloshes around her boots, full of gritty things that Jen doesn’t want to think about too closely. Her eyes sweep the room, and for a moment, horror makes her freeze. The sinister-looking machines, the sharp knives, the containers holding… _things_ … oh _God_ , what the fuck did they _do_ to him? 

The moment only lasts a second, however, and Jen swallows the urge to vomit as she rushes toward the center of the room, where Pike’s strapped to a table. She holsters her disruptor as she approaches.

He looks like _hell_ , is her second impression. His skin has an unhealthy grey-green color to it, and his breathing is labored. His eyes are half-closed, and for a heart-stopping, terrifying second, she thinks he doesn’t recognize her. She doesn’t pause as she takes him in, reaching for the bindings. 

“Jen… what’re you doin’ here?” he wheezes softly.

Jen flashes him a grin. She steadily ignores the two different voices in her head, one telling her to kiss him senseless because he’s _alive_ and _knows_ her, and the other growling, snarling to go find Nero and gut the fucking bastard for everything he’s done – for her dad, for the _Kelvin_ , for the Vulcans and the ‘Fleet, for _Pike_. But that’s not the plan. There can’t be any foolhardy rushing off, not if she, Spock, and Pike are to make it out of this alive. Plus, after the beating she’s taken from that other Romulan fucker, Jen’s not sure she’s quite up for another round.

“Just following orders,” she quips as she releases his restraints. 

It all happens so quickly that she barely comprehends it. In the space of just a few seconds, Jen recognizes the sound of running footsteps. She turns her head, still leaning over Pike, and there’s no time for her to even comprehend the appearance of the two Romulans, their weapons drawn and pointed at her —

Then Pike is there, gripping her tightly and flinging himself up to yank her disruptor from its holster and opening fire on the two aliens before either one can get a single shot off. It’s like a fucking old Western movie standoff, and Pike is infinitely better looking than John Wayne.

Damn. Her captain is _badass_. She already knows that, of course – he’s kicked her ass enough times over the past three years for her to be aware – but she has to remember to take a moment sometime soon to actually tell him so.

But the jolt of adrenaline and the movement seem to have cost him. Pike’s skin takes on an even more sickly pallor, and he starts to slump back. Jen sees his eyes beginning to drift shut and she hurriedly pinches him while pulling him off the table. They’ve made it this far, she’s not about to let him slip through her fingers now, when they’re so fucking _close_.

“Enterprise,” she shouts, struggling to hold onto her comm and Pike as he starts to crumple to the floor, “now!”

* * *

**_iii. At a ceremony_ **

“… report to Admiral Pike, _U.S.S. Enterprise_ , for duty as his relief.”

Jen salutes Barnett smartly (and God, who would have thought she ever would?) before turning on her heel and walking to Pike. 

His relief. Jen’s never expected anything like this, has never even _dreamed_ it. The _Enterprise_ has always been Pike’s baby, Pike’s talisman. In her last year at the Academy, Jen’s biggest hope has been to maybe have a place on the gorgeous ship, perhaps at Tactical, or even in Security. Now, they’re fucking _giving_ the ship to her.

She’s not an idiot. Jen knows this is a PR stunt, a way to impress the public and inspire more people to sign on. Starfleet needs people desperately, just as desperately as they need ships. Pike’s not able to take the ship out, won’t be for months, if not years, so they’re handing it over to the heroine of Earth, the one who led the effort to take Nero down, to avenge all those he murdered. 

It’s Dad all over again. Twenty-five years ago, Starfleet started touting George Kirk as a hero (not that he isn’t, but they fucking _milked_ the image), a shining example of heroism, something to inspire the masses, and now they’re doing it again with her. If she goes down in flames, they’ll make her and Dad the beacons of hope and patriotism, the Kirk family martyrs or some such bullshit.

But that’s not what’s bothering her, not entirely. Jen loves the _Enterprise_ , she feels alive in a way she never has before when she’s with her, but… she’s still Pike’s. She wants to rage at the unfairness of it all, wishes there was some way to fix this, but there’s no miracle cure for the damage that’s been done to Pike’s body. Just time.

She meets his eyes and salutes him. “I relieve you, sir.” Jen’s proud that her voice holds no tremble, no hint of her own turmoil.

Pike returns the gesture. “I am relieved,” he replies. His eyes are softer than she’s ever seen them, sadder, and she knows that however uncomfortable this is for her, it’s infinitely worse for him. Still, the Admiralty insisted on doing this in full view of the student body (what’s left of it) and the Academy staff, and there’s nothing to be done except go through the motions.

“Thank you, sir,” she says, hoping she’s conveying everything Jen _can’t_ say out loud as she shakes his hand.

Whatever his feelings, he still smiles at her. “Congratulations, Captain,” he tells her, and she can see the pride shining in his eyes. “Your father would be proud,” he adds in a softer, quieter tone, words meant only for her and not the multitudes around them. His own pride in her goes unsaid, but not unheard.

A lovely sense of warmth spreads through her and she can’t help but beam at him. Something inside of her whispers, encouraging her to lean down and kiss him on the cheek, but she ignores it, much as she always does. There’s a time and a place, and this isn’t it. Jen’s not about to add fuel to the rumors that are already abounding about her meteoric rise to a captaincy, that she fucked him – and God knows who else – to get the _Enterprise_.

The cheers echo throughout the theater and Jen looks up, offering them her best smile. Her eyes keep traveling upward, toward the balcony, and she’s fairly certain she sees someone standing up there, a solitary figure watching over her, over Pike, over all of them.

* * *

**_iv. On a starbase_ **

“Be honest with me,” Jen says, “the Admiralty is doing this to torture me, aren’t they?”

He glances up from his PADD and in her direction. His lips twitch. “What makes you say that?” he asks, the very picture of innocence and curiosity.

Jen’s not buying it one bit. “Oh, maybe the fact that we were just at Earth not two months ago, and all of a sudden they need me to fill out a bunch of paperwork.” She gives him an intent look. “Paperwork that can’t be sent over subspace. And they sent you because you’ve done something to piss them off.”

Now Pike laughs. “I piss at least one of them off on a weekly basis, Jen. They’d have run out of things for me to do pretty quickly if they sent me off every time I got someone’s back up.” He shakes his head. “No, this was Archer’s idea, actually. He said it would do me good to get off Earth for a while, and what better excuse than to have me come out here and ‘play with the _Enterprise_ and her captain’?” Jen can hear the quote in his words.

She snorts, though there’s no rancor behind it. Jonathan Archer is perhaps one of the few admirals – besides Pike himself – that Jen can actually stand for any length of time. Of course, he’s also older than Moses and still manages to be cool instead of a bastard like some of the other admirals. “Then let’s hope he’s not executing a coup to send Komack to Delta Vega or something while you’re not there to keep the peace,” she mutters.

She turns back to the paperwork then, hoping to get it done so she can relax – she knows better than to put it off; Janice Rand will jump all over her if she procrastinates. It isn’t more than a minute or two, though, when Pike shifts from his spot next to her on the couch. As she turns toward him, he stands up and crosses the room toward the small bar, which Commander Franklin had put at their disposal for the duration of their stay at Starbase 14.

Jen has lost count of how many times Bones has marveled over the miracle of Pike’s being able to walk again. He’s regained much of his equilibrium since his time as Nero’s prisoner, and now only requires the occasional use of a cane, though he does still have something of a limp. It’s not enough to get him back on a ship permanently, but it is enough that he is one of the admirals that travels the most frequently on Starfleet business. 

All joking aside, Jen’s certain that Pike relishes the chance to get off Earth whenever he can. For people like them, being permanently planet-bound is like being stuck in purgatory.

He pours two drinks from a bottle and brings them back over, handing her one of them as he sits back down. “To space,” he says simply, clinking his glass against hers.

She doesn’t need to add anything to that. “To space,” she echoes, and then tosses back her head as she drinks.

The alcohol burns as it goes down, and at first that’s what she thinks causes the warm, peaceful sensation that comes over her as she meets Pike’s gaze. They sit in silence, their eyes on each other for several minutes. She sees something flicker across his face, an expression of conflict of some kind, before his features settle back into his usual, congenial self.

It isn’t until later, just after she’s bunked down in her quarters for the night that it hits her, the truth of what she’s feeling. She shoots up, barely keeping her voice low enough to avoid being heard by Spock next door. 

“Oh _fuck_!”

* * *

**_i. On Earth_ **

It’s late. Starfleet Headquarters is mostly deserted, except for the skeleton night shift. Well, them and Jen and Pike. They’ve been hard at work since they’d eaten supper, going through the profiles of some of the older cadets who will be possible candidates for the _Enterprise’s_ next mission once she’s been refitted. 

“I think Willard Decker might be good for sciences,” Jen says. “His grades are good, and his independent projects are intriguing. I’ll forward his name to Spock.” She doesn’t add how Decker’s name seems strangely familiar to her, a troublesome itch in the back of her mind. Such instances have grown increasingly scarce over the years since the elder Spock melded with her, but she doesn’t usually discuss them with anyone.

Pike nods in agreement from his spot across the coffee table from her, though he doesn’t look up from his PADD. Jen presses her lips together in annoyance. This has become an all too frequent thing, him avoiding her gaze. He doesn’t sit next to her either. He will barely shake her fucking _hand_ , for God’s sake!

Yeah, Jen knows it goes back to that night at Starbase 14. She figured it out then, and since Pike’s anything but a moron, she’s pretty sure he did too. They’re fucking _attracted_ to each other.

Jen admits it, if only to herself. She’s never been big on self-denial (though if Bones or Spock or Gaila ever bring it up, she’ll deny it to her last breath).

It’s taken her over two years to come to terms with it. It was easier when she was out in the black. Most of her contact with Pike had been limited to comm calls related to Starfleet business, though they had been called back once or twice for diplomatic missions when Pike needed an impressive escort – and let’s face it, nothing’s more impressive than the _Enterprise_. 

Nonetheless, even the limited contact hasn’t diminished the tight knot in her stomach, or cured the fluttering in her chest whenever she sees him.

God, can she sound any more like a thirteen-year-old with a crush? It’s so _embarrassing_!

But yes, nothing’s gotten rid of the feeling, and it’s only been getting worse since the end of the five-year mission. The _Enterprise_ is going to be grounded for the next year or so, and Jen’s volunteered to teach at the Academy while she waits for the upgrades to be completed. She and Pike are going to be working together for a while.

Which means they can’t keep doing this – acting like nothing’s wrong and ignoring the elephant in the corner. Something has to be done.

It’s around one-thirty in the morning that they finally finish going through the cadet profiles. “We can send in our recommendations in the morning,” Pike tells her as they start stacking the various PADDs into neat stacks on the coffee table. “Go home, get some sleep.”

She nods, not disagreeing with him. She starts to stand up, and it’s by sheer coincidence that he glances up at the same time. Their eyes meet and as stupid or cliché as it sounds, time seems to slow down.

Jen’s known those eyes for coming up on ten years now. They’re part of her, perhaps even more than her own mother’s or her brother’s eyes. The eyes of a mentor, of a friend, of…

“Ah,” she breathes suddenly, “ _fuck it_.” Before she can change her mind, she leans forward and kisses him.

Pike stiffens beneath the contact for a moment, and Jen thinks he might just push her away, but then he relaxes and begins to respond. His hands come up to her face, his fingers brushing along the skin of her cheeks as he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss.

It’s an awkward position they’re both in, but they don’t move until they finally break for air.

Breathing deeply, he stares at her. “What was that for?”

Also trying to calm her pounding heart, Jen replies, “Been waiting for two years for you to do it. Figured you needed a nudge.” She grins at him, projecting her most confident air and definitely _not_ thinking about all the ways this could potentially go very bad.

Much to her relief, however, Pike doesn’t reprimand her, or throw words like ‘unprofessional’ or ‘inappropriate’ at her. He stares at her for several long moments, his expression giving away nothing. Finally, he asks her, “Do you think this is a good idea, Jen?”

She shrugs. “I guess we’ll just have to find out.” She cocks her head and gives him a questioning look. “Think you can handle it?”

His raised eyebrow and growing smirk are only the beginning of his answer.


End file.
